A Little Fish in an Intergalactic Pond
by Spidey-phd
Summary: While SGC was searching for Atlantis, the NID was creating beings capable of accessing an underwater city.
1. Kinsey's Office

Disclaimers: JeannieWood came up with the great plot bunny of Xander the Gill Monster. You can read her original story at .net/s/5427580/1/Its_a_Wonderful_Life.

I don't own the rights to any of the characters or ideas from Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor the Stargate universe.

Also, I'm afraid I had to take some creative liberties with timelines and even some minor liberties with the characters. I hope you'll forgive me and enjoy the story anyway.

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_"My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you - ask what can you do for your country."_

John F. Kennedy - Former President of the United States of America

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Kinsey scowled into the thin layer of amber liquid swirling within the tulip-shaped crystal. It was becoming increasingly obvious just how dangerous the Pandora's Box which Earth had opened with the stargate actually was. The planet-annihilating Anubis might be the most concerning threat at the moment but there were others, many others.

Earth's "allies" were questionable or self-serving. Stargate command was composed of hippies, reckless hotshots, and naive scientists. And the recent inclusion of Great Britain, France and China into Stargate Command indicated that the program would soon be under international control, with all the accompanying diplomatic delays, agendas and infighting which always occurred within such organizations.

The greatest hope for Earth's survival and eventual success lay in the lost mythical city of Atlantis. If Earth could locate the ancient city then it's advanced weapons and defenses could be used to defend against Anubis and the other threats against Earth. Without Atlantis, the Earth would likely be destroyed within the next year or two.

Kinsey breathed in deeply, savoring the rich aroma of the cognac, distancing himself from the terror which all too often threatened to overwhelm him. It was easier to do in his office, surrounded by subservient lackeys and constant reminders of his wealth and power.

The alcohol burned his throat pleasantly as he took another long sip, relishing the subtle hints of walnut, gingerbread, coffee and dried fruit.

Kinsey picked up the photo from his desk again with his free hand. The blank black eyes of a monstrous corpse gazed back at him from the glossy paper. A fish monster with scaly green skin, serrated teeth, fins and gills. A fish man, not an alien as had originally been assumed. DNA tests showed that the creature's DNA was mostly of terrestrial origin, human with the addition of sections of genomic sequences from various marine animals and a few "special extras."

The first creature had been shot while attacking a woman in her home. When a second, similar creature had been reported close to the location, a team had been deployed to investigate. The results of the investigation had been staggering.

Two more of the fishmen had been discovered and tracked back to their origin, a small town in California. Apparently, the two surviving scientists of a Soviet Union genetics program had fled to the United States after the project (with all associated personnel) was eliminated. The two researchers had eventually found their way to Sunnydale, California where they had worked at the local high school as the school nurse and a coach/biology teacher. At some point the pair had resumed their experiments upon the students and the surrounding population.

Initially, their experiments had been conservative and the ensuing results had been subtle- a change in hair color, an augmented olfactory sense, or slightly enhanced cognitive abilities. But, reveling in their successes, the pair had quickly intensified their experiments. The results had been very impressive and, eventually, equally horrific. While some of the experiments had produced viable results (such as an invisible girl currently in the employee of the NID) most of the subjects had eventually succumbed to psychological and/or physiological disorders.

The members of the school's swim team were all subjects of the genetic modification experiments. Unlike the majority of the test subjects, the swim team were aware that they were participating in an experiment but were falsely informed that they were merely receiving a type of steroid rather than being modified on a genetic level. The experiment successfully increased the physical abilities of the boys significantly, allowing the team to win several victories by large margins, but eventually caused four of the team members (Gage Petronzi, Cameron Walker, Dodd McAlyy, and Sean Dweir) to mutate into the fish-like creatures which had attracted the NID's attention.

According to student witnesses, the transformed fishmen had killed both Russian scientists before escaping through the sewers out into ocean. The remaining swim team members had all received plasmaphoresis therapy and had reported no further side effects.

The NID team had successfully captured both of the fishmen they had found but one had eventually died from wounds it had received during its capture. Study of the remaining test subject was still ongoing.

According to the NID scientists, the methods employed to genetically modify the boys was generations ahead of its time, although that gap might have been bridged somewhat by the technological advancements gained from the Stargate program. Despite the knowledge and technology gained from the Stargate, the NID still couldn't duplicate the results.

Given the potential benefits of the ability to affect such genetic modifications, Kinsey had authorized the capture of several of the more extreme test subjects from the Sunnydale area for study.

The sudden importance of Atlantis in Earth's struggle for survival, however, meant that Kinsey needed to alter his original guidelines for acceptable test subjects. A + B = C.

A) The Earth needed Atlantis.

B) Every story of Atlantis said that the city had sunk into an ocean.

C) The Earth needed people who could access an underwater city, regardless of the depth underwater.

The Stargate program was already working on advanced aquatic vehicles and underwater habitats as well as the next generation of rebreathers, powered exoskeletons, and personal force fields. Stargate Command hadn't considered a genetic solution, probably at least in part because such genetic modifications was completely beyond their grasp.

Just as it had remained tantalizingly just beyond the NID's grasp. Until now.

Kinsey swallowed the last of the brandy slowly before reaching for his pen and briskly authorizing the two proposed programs on his desk.

The first proposal authorized Dr. Maggie Walsh to initiate the next phase of her study of the "non-humans" in the Sunnydale area. Her Initiative was already providing invaluable advancements in medicine, cybernetics and genetics. It was time to allow her to take things to the next step.

The second proposal authorized the quite "disappearance" of the remaining members of the Sunnydale High School swim team. They'd already begun the transformation into aquatic humanoids. Finishing the transformation should prove much simpler than starting over from scratch.


	2. Almost to Oxnard

_This story is still moving slower than I would like but I figure it is better to post quickly then go back and edit than to waste so much time striving for perfection that I never post at all!_

_The next few chapters will be fairly moderate but after that some of the chapters could become fairly dark/grotesque. I'd appreciate input on whether everyone would prefer suggestive or explicit?_

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"A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side," the jive tune blasted through the open windows of the old Honda sedan at the red light, earning mixed reactions from nearby pedestrians and motorists- scowls and smiles, foot taps and upturned noses.

"A little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long" the dark-haired youth in the car enthusiastically tapped the wheel in time to the music, cheerfully belting out the lyrics along with Lou Bega.

"A little bit of Jessica here I am, a little bit of you makes me your man!" A gaggle of teenage hotties passed by, eying the driver speculatively and exchanging clandestine remarks.

Xander responded with a broad grin and wiggled his eyebrows.

The girls giggled in delight and blushed slightly before hurrying away.

Xander continued to happily pound away the instrumental interlude of the popular song while he waited for the light to change, casting an occasional glance into the mirror at the retreating girls. They might have been cute (And the blond in the sundress, wow! Triple wow!) but he doubted that any of them had been older than sixteen.

He might have only recently graduated from high school but Xander felt that he was pretty mature for his age. Things had always been tough for him at home. Then, three years ago, tough had been ratcheted up to whole new level when he'd met Buffy and joined the Vampire Slayer's little group of demon hunters. His best friend had died. Xander himself had been brought to Death's door more often than most marines in a war zone (a fact which he knew from personal experience). Yet he'd survived and continued to contribute to the fight, playing a key role in the defeats of several powerful demons and master vampires.

A couples of weeks previous Xander had graduated, led his classmates into battle against a supernatural horde, and blown up the high school and the principal.

Xander was now eighteen. He was legally an adult. He was the owner of his own car (which, given the amount of servitude his uncle had expected in exchange, Xander considered to be of at least equal value to his eternal soul). He had money in his pocket and an entire summer to celebrate.

He glanced into the mirror to see the blond in the sundress looking back at him, and smiled.

She was probably at least seventeen.

Xander turned right before the light had changed, moving to drive around the block. Ventura was only around forty minutes drive from Sunnydale. If he got the blonde's name and number Xander could always look her back up when he got back from his vacation. In fact, he should probably buy a little notebook or something to keep the phone numbers of all the girls he was going to meet on his trip.

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The man in the dark sedan behind Xander swore as the teenager abruptly turned to his right and sped around the corner.

"Problem?" Anderson asked over the headset.

"The kid just deviated from the expected route." Sytsevich responded. The light turned green. He hesitated before driving straight, watching Xander's Honda drive away perpendicular to his own path.

"Do you think he made you?" Anderson asked. His voice carried that peculiar casual tone which indicated just how unwelcome such a possibility would be.

"I don't know." The Russian responded. He accelerated to as high a speed as he dared, then braked slightly as he turned right at the next corner. "He kept looking into his mirror then he just took off."

"Maybe the kid is smarter than we gave him credit for." Sinclair spoke up. "Recon suggested that he was experienced in explosives. We all kind of dismissed the idea but maybe he really did get some training somewhere."

"It's a possibility." Anderson conceded. "But I am still doubtful. Got eyes on the target?"

"Not yet." Sytsevich said. He took the next corner hard as well. No sign of the Honda.

Sinclair didn't say anything but both of his partners could hear the unspoken "I told you so." Sinclair had wanted to install a tracking device on the car but Anderson had deemed the precaution to be unnecessary and risky.

Instead, Anderson said, "Sinclair, head north on 101. If we are made and he's trying to run back to Sunnydale we'll take him in route."

"Heading north for possible intercept." Sinclair acknowledged. The headset picked up the background roar of his revved engine.

Sytsevich braked at the stop sign, looking both ways for the Honda, before shooting across the road.

"The target turned west onto Robert Ave. I continued south to Roderick then went west one block. I am now traveling north behind the Fremont Square Shopping Center. The target is no longer on Robert Ave." Sytsevich reported.

"Copy that." Anderson said.

Sytsevich hesitated at the next intersection. Ventura Road was only a couple of blocks to the west. If the boy had noticed his tail then he had likely headed in that direction and was returning north to Sunnydale as quickly as possible. Sinclair, however, was already covering that route.

Sytsevich turned east, instead, cruising between the rows of middle-class homes with their well-trimmed yards and hedges. He was almost alongside the Honda before he saw it, hidden as it was behind the oversized bulk of a pickup truck.

One of the girls gathered around the car looked up as Sytsevich passed, but the target was too engrossed in the blond girl leaning into his passenger window and the contoured expanse of well-tanned skin exposed by the hanging neckline of her dress.

Sytsevich snorted in amusement and continued on, looking for a discreet location to stop and observe the boy. "I found the target. He circled around the block to hit on some girls."

Sinclair chuckled in response. "How's he doing?"

"Not too bad." Sytsevich admitted.

"Does Sinclair have time to return to his previous position?" Anderson asked, all business."

"Most likely." Sytsevich said, watching the group of girls around the Honda in his mirror. "What are we going to do if he talks the girls into joining him?"

"Improvise."


	3. 4:20

_Thanks for all of the positive responses! _

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_"If you want, I'll pretend you won this argument. Then tomorrow you can tell me you changed your mind."  
><em> - Orson Scott Card, _Ender's Game_

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"Mom?" Xander called weakly.

The soft hum of electrical equipment was the only reply.

"Hello?" he called again.

His eyelids were gummy and stuck together. It was hard to force them open.

The light was blinding and painful.

A white room. White walls. A white ceiling with white lights. Medical equipment. A thin white blanket over his legs. White electrodes attached to his too pale chest. Bound to the cool table by white straps.

Xander felt weak and disoriented. His head throbbed, his vision was blurry and his limbs were leaden and unresponsive to his commands to fight against the straps.

"Hello?" He called out in a slightly stronger voice. "Is anyone there?"

Great. Just freaking great. And his nose itched, too.

A tall metal pole attached to the side of his bed supported three bags of liquid, two clear and one amber. The combined solution ran down into a needle on his right arm. A second, half-filled bag of yellow fluid hung suspended at the side of his bed.

His keen senses also suggested that he was wearing an adult diaper. That needed to be changed.

He tested his strength against the straps again, gratified at his limbs' attempted movement even if they failed to break the thick material.

His chest was secured to the bed but his head and neck were free to thrash about futilely. Xander spent a minute or two industriously attempting to give himself whiplash before stopping to catch his breath. His herculean efforts had managed to irritate the skin under the straps.

The surrounding equipment didn't reveal much. Names of suppliers that might or might not be common. Saline concentrations (lactated? was this some kind of horrific transgender experiment?). The stereotypical oscillating line on a nearby monitor revealed that his heart was indeed still beating.

He couldn't find a call button to summon a nurse for assistance.

"Hello?" he called again. "Anyone home?"

He waited for a response then called some more. Followed by more thrashing against the straps. The cycle repeated itself many, many times.

Time passed. How much he couldn't have accurately said. It might have only been a couple of hours but felt like much longer.

A lot went through his head during that time. Should he act angry, or confident, or scared? What did his abductor want? Who and what was his abductor? When and how had he been abducted? Did his friends know? Was help coming and when would it arrive?

He was angry and scared and helpless.

In the end, he decided that every minute that his still-beating heart remained in his chest and out of the stomach of a Thuggee cultist was an extra minute that his friends had to come to his rescue. So it was a disappointment when the ambient temperature of the room abruptly began to drop and the halogen lights began to flicker.

Xander didn't bother thrashing. The eternity of waiting had proven that he wasn't going to break free of the straps or somehow wiggle loose.

The waves on the heart monitor did grow a lot more frequent however. "Buffy!" he shouted. "Giles! Anyone, help!"

The flickering lights outside of the room abruptly went dark, leaving the frosted glass of the door black.

The temperature had dropped enough that Xander's rapid breathing was turning into a obscuring cloud.

"Buffy!" he shouted again. "Wills! I'm in here!"

Shadows moved within the flickering, strobe-like light. Nebulous, indistinct and ominous. There was a pressure in the air that pressed down on his chest, driving the chill down into his lungs and through his veins. The heart monitor screeched a small, tinny warning before abruptly going dark.

The doorknob turned.

The door swung open slowly, tendrils of an obscuring thick mist weaving their way through the narrow space.

The flickering lights went completely out.

Freezing, nearly naked, blind and staked out buffet-style for whatever loomed above him in the darkness, Xander was shocked that he managed to make the laugh past his lips. "Talk about dumb. Are you always so stupid or is today a special occasion?"

He snorted and shook his head. "Thinking just isn't your strong suit, is it? You've heard of the current Vampire Slayer, right? The Slayer that came back from the dead to dust the Master, sent Angelus to hell, and chased William the Blood and Drusilla running. The Slayer that blew up the "invincible" Judge and destroyed an ascended, pure-blooded demon a couple of weeks ago. The Slayer that's spent the last three years mowing through every demon, vamp, witch and poltergeist that's been stupid enough to stick its head in her territory. And you just kidnapped the guy responsible for supplying her with coffee and doughnuts. You just abducted the friend who stood between her and Angelus when she was in the hospital, the guy who went into the Master's lair with her and the buddy she watched the latest Star Wars film with last month."

Xander laughed again. "As far as death wishes go, yours is the one that just ran naked through the streets of Oakland waving a sign saying "God bless the KKK.""

Xander laid back down. "She's coming. And eventually she always wins. Obviously, I'm stuck here. So it's up to you what condition she'll find me in when she arrives. Now try to scrounge up a pair of brain cells to rub together and get out of here."

He laid in the silent darkness, forcing his breathing to remain slow and even, straining his senses for any sign of the intruder.

The silence stretched. Then kept stretching.

Finally, the door clicked shut.

The lights and medical equipment flickered then came back on. The heart monitor screeched angrily before grudgingly quieting back down. The lights in the hall came back on. A warm breeze flooded into the room through the corner vent, driving away the arctic chill.

I can't believe that worked. Xander took a couple of deep shaky breaths. Maybe I actually will live long enough to see the cavalry come charging in.

How long is Buffy going to take? How long until someone even realizes that I'm missing? When he'd left Sunnydale he'd promised Willow he'd call her that night... or the next day if he was busy.

How long ago had he been kidnapped? What time was it now? What day was it? He'd been hurt often enough to know how badly drugs screwed with his sense of time.

Speaking of drugs, he thought as a faint whirring coming from the box on the I.V. pole. His vision began to grow blurry.

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you. It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage." Xander sang, the words slurring and becoming nearly incomprehensible. "But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two..."


End file.
